


dick grayson drabbles.

by krysalla



Series: character drabbles. [2]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-08-28 12:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16723749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysalla/pseuds/krysalla
Summary: A series of unrelated Dick drabbles requested on my tumblr account.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the way I say I love you - a whisper in your ear (requested by anonymous)

You wake up to the sound of him crawling through the living room window. The grunts and crashing of his body against the floor just seem like second nature, easily as normal as the sound of traffic at this point. And you try to not think too hard on it, because thinking about it, this new normal that should  _not_  be normal for anyone, will only keep your mind muddled and distracted when you go in for work in five- no, six hours.

“Morning, babe,” he groans out, clutching his side and picks himself up from the ground. Dick moves slowly, feet shuffling across the hardwood floor. It’s funny how he tries to normalize it, how you both do. He tries to do it for you, and you try to do it to hold the relationship together. You have to understand it, because it’s a part of him. You can’t have only one part of him and make it work. And you want this to work.

“Good morning,” you sit on the edge of the coffee table and wait for him to make his way to you.

Dick drops his belt and chest plate on the ground near the armchair in the corner of the living room. Bruises litter his back and hips, painting his skin black and blue.

“Rough night?”

He hums and makes an exaggerated effort to move to the couch and sits with his knees between your thighs. You lean toward him, hands gently stroking over his face as you look for any cuts there. You don’t like it, having to be the one that fixes him up, but you’ll do it without protest. Maybe it’s some arrogant part of you that you do this, knowing that you’ll take better care of him than anyone else. Or maybe it’s your protective nature that makes you do it.

It’s mostly bruises and small cuts that only need cleaning.

“All good.”

“I knew that.”

You click your tongue and pat his cheek, “But you let me do it anyway.”

“For your peace of mind.”

“And I thank you for that,” you rest your hands on your knees and smile at him before getting up. You can still squeeze a few hours of rest in before you have to get ready for work, “Come on.”

You offer your hand to him and he takes it eagerly, letting you lead him back into the bedroom.

He lets go of your hand once he crosses the threshold of the door. You don’t bother looking back, knowing that he’s taking off the rest of his costume. You crawl under the duvet and hold it up for him, eyes already starting to drift closed.

The heavy pants fall to the floor with a clank and soon after, he falls in next to you, letting you wind yourself around him. You arm coming under his and resting your hand on his back, tracing figure eights across the expanse of his skin. You feel him smile against your clavicle, feel the breath he takes and the warmth his whole body emits, chasing off the cold of your room.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably die of a bacterial infection,” you tap his back with your index finger and smile.

“Maybe so,” he chuckles lightly and moves his head up, pressing a soft kiss to you jaw, “I love you.”

You nod, moving your hand up to his hair and lightly comb through it. There’s not many moments like this, they are so far and few between, another new normal for you too. But when they do happen, the wait is worthwhile.

“I know you do. I love you too.”

He exhales, relaxing into your embrace and settles against you, slowly drifting off to sleep, something he more than deserves right now. This is worth the wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way i say i love you - slowly, the words dripping from your tongue like honey. (requested by anonymous)

“You should really change your locks,” he says, pushing your front door open with one finger, “The door doesn’t lock in place. How do you sleep at night?”

You click your tongue as you plop your purse and keys onto the kitchen table, “I sleep fine. You’re always next to me.”

Dick huffs, carrying the groceries in- all seven bags of them. He doesn’t want to make more trips than necessary. The bags join your purse on the table and he shakes his wrist out, “I’m not with you all night.”

“My apartment complex is safe,” you’ve started to unload the groceries. He worries too much, but you know it’s coming from a good place. It almost makes you worry how much worrying he’s doing. You’re both young, you shouldn’t be stressing out over this. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll talk to my landlord about getting it fixed.”

He passes by you, boxes of cereal and granola bars in his arms, and smiling wide. His smile is contagious, and even with the hint of the grimness in the conversation, you can’t help smiling back at him. 

“I love you.” Dick says, coming down to press a soft kiss to your cheek, pushing the boxes into the small pantry, squeezing the large boxes between bags of flour and boxes of pasta. You’ll have to move the cereal somewhere else. 

It’s the first time he’s said it, and there’s not a breath of nervousness there. He’s confident.

It doesn’t feel too soon, you’ve known each other for years, and dated for nearly eight months, but you just never expected it. You don’t know how to react to it. You don’t want to say I love you back, what if he thinks you’re just saying that out of obligation and don’t mean it. What if he doesn’t mean it and just says surprise! I know we’ve been dating for eight months, but it was all a big joke!

“That’s nice.” you finally draw out after a long silence. You distract yourself by putting the plastic bags full of vegetables in the fridge. 

“You did hear me, right?” Dick’s eyebrows quirk up. It’s not what he expected, and it’s certainly not what you’d expected to say either. 

“Yeah.”

You’re bouncing around the kitchen, unable to stop yourself from moving things around, even after all the groceries are put away. God, what the fuck. He stops you, hands on your wrists after you’re sure that he’s sick of seeing you walk around in circle.

“I love you.” Dick’s voice is smooth and he draws out the syllables, just for emphasis so you’ll really hear it, hear what he’s wanted to say since you were sixteen and dumb enough to speed through a yellow light, laughing happily and a hand clapped over your chest from the rush. He’s waited since that night, your skin illuminated under the yellow street lights and brought out the shine in your eyes.

His easy smile is back, eyes crinkling as he does so and your smile isn’t as easy, but it gets there. 

He loves you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a and b are best friends. a is applying a new flavor of chapstick.“can i try it? i wanna have a taste,” b asks curiously.“sure, it’s coconut cream-” a starts to reply, but before they can finish, b kisses a on the lips. (requested by anonymous)

It’s a quiet day in Gotham. The breeze is fresh- well, as fresh as it can be in this city, and there’s an absence of mayhem, of laser guns and yelling. People aren’t in as much of a hurry, enjoying one of the few days out of the year where shit doesn’t hit the fan. It’s nice. You don’t remember the last time you’d walked around this city without worrying about walking right into a gunfight.

It’s nice enough that you decide to sit outside of the little cafe Dick is supposed to meet you at. You’re always the first one to the arranged hangout. After very careful and meticulous planning on your part, you like to leave your apartment a little earlier than you need to in case of a blocked off road where Poison Ivy is going at it with the police or some greedy corporation. Aren’t they just one in the same?

But you’re early this time.

You already ordered your drinks. He can just pay you back with actually showing up on time and save you the anxiety and the click of the button on your phone, checking the time every couple of seconds, staring at the screen diligently for him to text you that he’s running late or needs to take a rain check. He’s rarely ever told you that he would have to reschedule, but it happens, and you hate that. Your schedules barely line up as it is.

The stars seem to be in your favor, because just as you check your phone, Dick shows up with a big smile and sunglasses being pushed to the top of his head. He’s finally on time.

“Well, it’s about time!”

He clicks his tongue and smiles at you, pulling out the seat at the table. Dick sighs as he settles into the shade, “I’m only a few seconds past one-thirty.”

“And that is still late. Didn’t Bruce ever teach you that if you’re not fifteen minutes early, then you’re late?”  

He reaches across the table, grabbing his drink and his lips are pulled into a tight line. Oh, you forgot. Bruce is a bit of a touchy subject as of late. Dick never told you exactly what had happened between them, what kind of fight they’d had, but you know that it was bad enough for him to come to your apartment in the middle of the night and pass out on your bed after three shots of shitty tequila and long stretches of silence. You’d tried to fill in the gaps with your dumb jokes, just to get him to smile, to laugh. 

Dick had grown frustrated with it and snapped at you. You’re no stranger to his temper, having witnessed it first had on many occasions, but his anger and frustration had never been directed towards you.

“Do you, oh I don’t know,” he grabs the straw, swirling the iced coffee, “ever relax?”

“How can I relax when you always worry me?”

“Jokes on you, I hardly ever worry about you.” 

You blink, and what he says stings, makes the muscles in your chest seize up. You don’t know if he’s joking or not, if he’s just trying to get a rise out of you. You start slowly, unsure of your words, “You know, I think that’s a lie. You texted me nonstop when you picked me up from work last month.”

“Well,” he takes a sip of the cold drink, “it was dark out and you do work in a bad part of town.” The playfulness in his voice is back.

“This entire city  _is_ the bad part of town.”

He laughs at that. It makes your knees shake and your heart speed up. It’s sad, pathetic maybe, but you like making him happy like that. Dick hasn’t had an easy couple of months. Anything that gets him to laugh is worthwhile, even something so stupid as your own comments. He’s like the damn sun and there is nothing you can do about it. He practically radiates warmth. The skin around his eyes wrinkles as he squints at you.

“You know, you have a very bad sense of self-preservation.”

“That’s funny coming from the vigilante.”

He rolls his eyes, the corner of his lips quirked up. Dick is trying so hard to suppress the smile, but you can see right through him.

“Just admit that you love me,” you rummage through your pockets, looking for your new tube of chapstick. You’d started noticing your lips were starting to get dry on the way here, and seeing as how you didn’t have one on you and you highly doubted you would find the one you already own at home, you spent money on some fancy and very expensive thing of chapstick.

“Can I try it?” Dick watches intently as you swipe it over your lips.

“I… yeah, I guess you can try it.” you say, eyebrows knitted together and squinting at him suspiciously. If you give him your chapstick you probably won’t ever get it back. You hold it out to him over the table, “It’s coconut cream…” 

You watch, falling into more confusion as he stands up, rather than taking the tube from your outstretched hand. His movement is calculated and slow. Dick bends down, placing his fingers beneath your chin to tilt your head up. Your heart picks up, racing in your chest you swear it might burst. You’re not used to this kind of closeness, especially where your mind leaps to. All your little fantasies coming to life right in front of you. 

His lips brush against your gently, for the barest moment before he pulls back slightly, looking at you with wide eyes like he can’t believe what he’s doing himself. But then something changes, and you see it flicker in his eyes, the way they always do when he sets his mind on something. 

Dick kisses you, actually kisses you, and you feel shocked to the core at the pressure on your lips and the way his hands move to cup your face and the back of your neck. It’s an otherworldly experience to be kissed by Dick Grayson.

“What was that for?” you gasp out when he pulls away, a hazy smile on his face and a dopey look in his eyes like he had been waiting to do that forever.

“Because I wanted to,” his fingers trace down your cheek and over your jaw before he pulls away, sitting back in his spot, “Are you free for dinner tonight?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We fell asleep on the couch together on accident, how did my hand end up in your hair? Were you breathing on my neck?! (Why did I get tingly???????) (requested by anonymous)

He’s not big on the whiskey you gave him, but he throws it back and grimaces at the hot feeling that radiates down his throat and in his chest. It’s better than beer.

You’re near passed out, head resting on his shoulder, and just occasionally do you blink yourself awake, almost startling yourself in the process. He knows you’re tired, he is too. That’s the reason he came over, so you could both bitch about today’s events and pass out on the couch with you. It’s a habit, just a rhythm that he has fallen into with you; he likes that he has someone outside of it all that he can talk to, a clear and more objective view than him. Alfred likes it too, but he worries a little too much.

But tonight, neither of you are talking.

You’re downing one shot after the other, barely reacting at all to the sting of the whiskey. He frowns, watching you forgo the shot glass and drink straight from the bottle. You must have had a worse day than him.

“Maybe you should-“

“Dick, I appreciate the fact that you care, but right now, all I want is reach the bottom of this bottle of cheap whiskey and pass out, okay? I don’t need a lecture tonight.”

“This,” he takes the bottle from you and places it down on the table, “isn’t a good coping mechanism.”

“It works, doesn’t it?”

He sighs. You’re beyond stubborn, but with just a little nudging by him, you’ll stop. He’s only trying to look out for you; Dick has been doing that since you’d become friends.

You finally give up, “Hold me, yeah?”

It’s not an odd request in the slightest, it’s actually offputting if you don’t ask him that. You’re touchy with him, eager to be held and cuddled, and even though you’re just friends, he likes it and is perfectly content with it going just as far as this. Besides, it’s nice that he’s the only one you ask this of. It makes him feel a little special. Dick wonders if it’s wrong to feel like that.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you to him even though his nose wrinkles at the smell of whiskey on you. Neither of you should have drunk it, it even  _smells_ dangerous. Dick would be surprised if you or him didn’t puke it up in the middle of the night.

* * *

 

A blur is all he can see when he wakes up. The combination of the whiskey and rough sleep, waking up every five minutes from the heat or the springs in your couch digging into his side. He tries to wipe the sleep and gunk away from his eyes with both hands, but one gives resistance to his movement. He blinks, his head pounds and his eyes strain to focus on the object that has his hand held down. He pulls again and you emit a soft groan, slowly turning and your hand falling off the side of the couch.

His hand is caught, literally, in your hair. Dick strains to remember when it happened. You have a pretty strict rule about him touching your hair. He can’t run his hands through it as it tangles easily, he can only smooth his hand over it, and he’s been pretty good at following this rule.

“You were breathing on my neck, you asshole,” you grumble against the cushion of the couch.

“Why am I the asshole?”

“I’m never gonna get your hand out of my hair. That’s why.”

You turn back towards him, lips drawn in a thin line. He’s seen that look a dozen times before, just when you’re about the cross a line that you drew.

“Would it be weird if I said I want to kiss you?”

“It would be weird if you didn’t.” Dick takes a chance on this. After all, what’s the point in never asking, never trying to explore a different route. It’s better to try and know for sure if it would work or not than to never try at all and leave him questioning what could have happened. This way, he won’t have any regrets.

You grimace though and throw a leg over his hips, “Nevermind, your breath smells horrible. Maybe after you brush your teeth.”

“Yours doesn’t smell any better.”

“Shut up, Grayson,” you smile and close your eyes, not bothering with the hand in your hair and push yourself closer to him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kiss prompt - routine kiss (requested by merrygraysons)

You’re sitting at the table picking at cold pasta and trying to work on your thesis paper when he comes out of the bedroom. He’s dressed head to toe in his Nightwing gear and even though you can’t fully see him from your peripheral vision, you know he’s exhausted. Five years together–though not consecutively–and knowing each other another two before you’d decided to date has given you a sort of sixth sense when it comes to his night activities, but maybe it’s the routine of it all. He comes in tired and leaves tired until your mandatory two days of rest for him and he’s ready to go again. 

“Be careful, baby,” you say. It’s ingrained in you now, almost like when you move your hair to the other side of your face and tilt your head just a little for his easy access as he makes his way to the fire escape. 

His kiss is brief, but the meaning isn’t left out. A quick peck on the cheek is his promise to be safe and to come back–maybe not in one piece, but he’ll come back. Dick always does.

* * *

 

The eggs on your plate have long since gone cold and the toast soggy from the heap of butter you put on it before realizing the time. Despite conflicting schedules, you both make an effort to have breakfast together, mostly so you can make sure he eats something that isn’t cereal and for him to get you to eat anything before going to class. 

“Shit, where’s my wallet?” you run around the tight space of the apartment, occasionally running into furniture or catching your elbow on the edge of a wall. A string of curses from you isn’t uncommon in the morning, it’s a fixture to him now. 

“You know you should leave all of that in one place,” he says between bites of bacon.

“Don’t criticize the way I do things, Richard.”

“That would be insane, right? When your way of finding things is so,” he holds up your wallet. It’d fallen out of your purse and left on the table overnight, which you would have noticed had you sat down to eat, “easy.”

“I love you, but you’re such a  _dick_  sometimes.”

“It’s in my name, babe.”

You roll your eyes and lean over him, trying to grab your wallet out of his outstretched hand. But he only smirks the closer you get to it and raises it out of your reach.

“I want my kisses before you leave.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a baby,” you cup his cheek and press a soft kiss to his forehead, the bridge of his nose and finally to his lips, which he only smiles in response to, “I wasn’t gonna forget. Now give me my wallet.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kiss prompt - a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss (requested by anonymous)

It was strange enough to learn that he was Nightwing, even if some of the pieces fit together. The late nights and early mornings, the mysterious bruises and cuts that he’d gained–he brushed them off as just a hazard of being a detective, but you know better, it shouldn’t be an every day occurrence that he comes home looking like a Jackson Pollock painting.

It’s stranger still to see him in action. Everything made sense when you saw it on the TV, but to actually have a face to the persona, a face you know, the man you love behind the mask makes it incomprehensible. Even now as you watch him on the trapeze, it feels like a case of a body snatching. 

It’s hard to equate Dick with blood and violence, because all you’ve ever known of him was soft and good natured, easy to joke with and easy to love. 

He invited you to see him train on the trapeze, and it helps a little. You can see past the what the news see, what the cops see, that he’s dangerous, just one wrong move from being a criminal and no different than the people he was fighting. It’s easy to reconcile what you thought and what you now know when you see him fly through the air, a smile on his face and laughter easily falling from his lips when he catches the bar.

You’re slow to approach him when he lands on the ground. He’s wiping off the back of his neck with an old towel and smiles at you when he spots you.

“It wasn’t my best set but-”

You cut him off, cupping his cheeks and pushing yourself onto you toes to kiss him. It’s chaste and all too sweet. Younger you would have gagged at the sight and the lovey-dovey thoughts.

“What was that for?” he chuckles and wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. 

Your nose scrunches at the smell of his sweat, “Because I love you.”

You guide him back down to you, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, the fabric stretching and damp with sweat. He lets you guide him easily, always eager to be kissed. His lips are a little dry, but his enthusiasm makes up for it. You press harder, begging him to hold you a little closer, a little tighter. He takes the hint.

Your heart nearly bursts when his thumb strokes up the apple of your cheek and down, brushing tenderly under your jaw and finally, finally catching on your chin, and tilting your head up. No longer do you see blood and violence, you see what he stands for, what he fights for. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kiss prompts - a gentle “i love you” followed by neck kisses (requested by anonymous)

His body is bruised and broken. He came in—stumbled is more accurate—through the fire escape, droplets of blood falling onto the hardwood floor and collecting into puddles. He couldn’t even get a breath out, no amount of effort he exerted could he manage to say your name—not even a whisper.

You had found him, lying in a pool of his own blood and fingers weakly twitching as he tried to grab onto anything around him to bring your attention to him. And three hours later, he’s finally stable and the apartment is once again scrubbed clean and your arms sore.

He sits between your legs, his back pressed against your chest, moving with each breath you take. Dick is nearly asleep, but you keep him up, occasionally shaking his hand. He’s got a concussion, you’re not sure how severe, so you stay up with him. His breathing is shallow and it worries you that your work won’t be good enough, that you’ll fall asleep and then wake up with the dead body of the man you love in your arms because you weren’t good enough.

“You’re thinking,” Dick wheezes, grabbing hold of your hand and squeezing weakly, “too loud.”

“Shh, just try to relax, baby. Don’t worry about me.” With your free hand, you brush some of the thick curls out of his eyes. He refuses to cut his hair, even though it can get in the way of his sight when he’s out on patrol, he knows you like playing with his hair so he keeps it somewhat long for you, even if you fret over his safety.

“It’s hard to do that when I’ve got a tube sticking out of my chest.”

“I’ll take you to Doctor Thompkins in the morning, I can’t do what she does.”

He strokes your knuckles with his thumb. He’s comforting you even though he’s the one that’s being held together by sloppy stitches and mishandled gauze.

“I love you,” you say softly. You hear him hum and he raises your hand to his mouth, pressing a sweet kiss on your knuckles. You don’t mind that he doesn’t respond verbally, you know he loves you.

You press a kiss below his jaw, trailing further down until something in your neck twinges in pain and his head lolls to the side, resting on your shoulder and light snores escaping him. You gently shake him even as sleep begins to call to you too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way I say I love you - with a hoarse voice, under the blankets (requested by anonymous

The night has been long with nothing much to do. He appreciates that nothing happens. There were no cries for help, no screams to capture his attention. But it left him bored. He easily could have called it quits halfway through the night, but he kept thinking that something could happen the moment he arrives back at his apartment. Nothing happens. 

He regrets not packing it in earlier, especially when he glances to the clock on your bedside table. You have to be up in an hour for work and then he has to leave only a few hours after you do for the trapeze lessons he started offering.

He strips away the suit and breathes a sigh of relief when he can finally breathe without anything constricting him. The compression shorts have left marks around his hips, a reminder that he needs to get new ones. You’ve been making it difficult for him with making him eat more regularly. He slips into a pair of sweatpants and sneaks beneath the covers.

Your cheek is pressed against the pillow, mouth slightly open and fingers clutching at the pillow you press to your side. A bit of drool escapes, creating a wet spot on your pillow that will have you feeling gross and embarrassed when you wake up. He smiles as he tucks the covers around himself and takes the pillow from your arms, sliding into your embrace. Your fingers twitch on his back and settle when you grab onto his shoulder.

Dick presses a soft kiss to your nose–which crinkles in response. You groan and pull him closer, eyes slowly starting to open.

“Hey, baby,” you smack your lips and nudge your nose against his, “How was patrol?”

“Good. You sleep alright?”

You mumble in response and begin to drift off. Dick smiles, brushing his thumb against your cheekbone. He wishes you’d call out sick and that he could cancel his lessons, but he knows you wouldn’t and he couldn’t do that to the kids. He just wants to spend some time with you. Uninterrupted and without distraction.

“Love you,” he tucks himself close to you, forehead pressed against your clavicle and a hand resting against you back. It’s just a matter of time before your schedules finally line up for a day together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "only black or blue days"

There are good and bad days, it just comes with loving him and understanding that being Nightwing is an integral part of him. Good days are when he comes home early with a minor bruise or two of his own making from not paying attention, where he only suffers scrapes but still wants to be babied because he wants to make up for the time he missed out on patrol. Bad days come with fights when you’re tired and stressed and Dick feeds off of that and himself becomes stressed and tired, adding onto the heap he already carries on his shoulders.

Both are rare. It’s more often than not the disposal of his gear on the ground, kicked to the side to be dealt with after he gets some sleep, you checking on him and patching up anything that needs attending to with some small talk to fill the silence of the apartment. You both tiredly return to bed after that.

He has days of his own when the effects of all the head injuries he’s sustained over the years rear their ugly heads and when the pain in his back and shoulders debilitate him and the muscles in his legs pull so tight that he can’t stand or even push himself out of bed. His hearing goes bad these days too, requiring hushed whispers should the loud ringing come back. Dick can’t leave the apartment these days.

Today is the third time it’s happened in the course of two months, but he tells you he’s fine, but you know he isn’t. It’s hard for him to hide it. You know his only interest is so you don’t worry the entire day about him despite your willingness to call in sick to work.

He doesn’t like being taken care of when he’s like this. That doesn’t stop you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "run her hands through my hair"

It’s distant and sickly sweet the way you smile at him. Your lip gloss shines in the sun, blinding him and reminding the way that it sticks to his skin when you get carried away with kissing him. His forefinger runs over his clavicle, willing the feeling to rise to the surface of his skin.

Dick can’t tell if the smile is real. Your eyes are obscured by the large, black sunglasses that are perched on the bridge of your nose. He catches you gazing at him sometimes, but always you look through him like you can see someone else in his place. He knows that you see don’t see him, you see your ex. Dick had hoped with enough time that his memory would wash away and you would finally see him completely, wholly, without the interference of another.

You bathe in the sun, soaking up what you can and a hand lazily trailing a path over the condensation of the glass of iced water that sits next to you. He turns his head away and rests against your stomach. 

Your fingers are rough in his hair, a sign you are vacant, off thinking of something he can’t understand. He doesn’t understand why your still longing or even idealizing your ex when you both know how bad he was to you. Dick does his best to distract, to soothe that want that coils in your belly. Time is all you need and Dick would gladly give you all the time in the world.

You soften your touch in his hair, scraping his scalp gently before stroking his curls flat near his right ear. He wonders how long he can ground you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way i said i love you - “with no space left between us" (requested by anonymous)

He means it with all his heart, he loves you. He can feel it in his chest, the way the heat blooms through his veins and how his heart thrums a little faster when you enter the room. His head goes hazy with delirium around you; he wonders if that’s healthy, but doesn’t dwell on the question.

“I love you too,” you whisper it against his lips, smiling happily and he can feel your heat rolling off of you in waves.

His fingertips brush against the soft skin of your cheek. You say it again, glancing up at him with wide eyes and it’s enough to make him groan, head hanging and his fingers on your hip curl into you. You gasp when you feel the pressure he leaves there.

“I have to go,” he shouldn’t have even stayed that long. He doesn’t want anyone to know about you. You’re a little piece of heaven and he has it all to himself. Not even Damian knows about you, but that can only last so long before he gets too nosy, “They’re gonna get suspicious.”

Dick sucks in a gasp when your hand drifts low. Past his chest and under his belt, palming him over his pants and it takes too much effort to still his hips from bucking against your touching.

“You’re not playing fair.”

“Neither are you. Gonna leave me high and dry, gonna do the same to you,” you gasp when he bites gently at your neck. You retaliate by wrapping a hand around him and stroking his cock. You push him away with a wink once he’s hard and lay on the couch.

He mumbles under his breath in complete disbelief. He has fifteen minutes before he’s got to be at the manor and he’s  _already_ late and now he has an embarrassing problem that you caused and wouldn’t help with. He’ll have to get you back later.

But you smile at him and his annoyance at you fades and gives way to delirium. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way i said i love you - “with no space left between us" (requested by anonymous)

He means it with all his heart, he loves you. He can feel it in his chest, the way the heat blooms through his veins and how his heart thrums a little faster when you enter the room. His head goes hazy with delirium around you; he wonders if that’s healthy, but doesn’t dwell on the question.

“I love you too,” you whisper it against his lips, smiling happily and he can feel your heat rolling off of you in waves.

His fingertips brush against the soft skin of your cheek. You say it again, glancing up at him with wide eyes and it’s enough to make him groan, head hanging and his fingers on your hip curl into you. You gasp when you feel the pressure he leaves there.

“I have to go,” he shouldn’t have even stayed that long. He doesn’t want anyone to know about you. You’re a little piece of heaven and he has it all to himself. Not even Damian knows about you, but that can only last so long before he gets too nosy, “They’re gonna get suspicious.”

Dick sucks in a gasp when your hand drifts low. Past his chest and under his belt, palming him over his pants and it takes too much effort to still his hips from bucking against your touching.

“You’re not playing fair.”

“Neither are you. Gonna leave me high and dry, gonna do the same to you,” you gasp when he bites gently at your neck. You retaliate by wrapping a hand around him and stroking his cock. You push him away with a wink once he’s hard and lay on the couch.

He mumbles under his breath in complete disbelief. He has fifteen minutes before he’s got to be at the manor and he’s  _already_ late and now he has an embarrassing problem that you caused and wouldn’t help with. He’ll have to get you back later.

But you smile at him and his annoyance at you fades and gives way to delirium. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dreamy prompts "honey" (requested by anonymous)

Honey sweet kisses and beautiful smiles with gentle touches, sugar-coated moans, and whiskey-fueled desire keeps him coming back for more. Dick knows it’s bad for him. He wants and he wants and you take and take everything you give him with only pleasure as his reward. It lasts the night and you never stay long enough to see what he can offer you. The one time he asked for you to stay the night with breakfast as an incentive, you declined politely and picked up your things. That had been the earliest you’d ever left.

He still sees you even without the context of your hookups, you are friends after all, albeit slowly drifting with how much you push him away at the first sign of intimacy and vulnerability.

Dick swirls the glass of bourbon in his hands and regrets his choice of drink. He was never big on alcohol and only indulged once in a while. Tonight the brown drink makes him sick at the sight. Still, he knocks it back. It’s a fifteen dollar drink after all.

“How long have you been waiting?”

He turns at the sound of your voice and you beam at him. His resolve crumbles quick, but just as fast as he lost it, he builds it again when you sit next to him and wave down the bartender. 

“We have to stop this.”

“Meeting in bars? I know you aren’t a big drinker, I’m not either, but I like-”

“Not that.” Dick turns in his seat and frowns at your confusion.

“Then what is it?” you cross your arms and lean close enough for him to smell the flowery perfume you wear.

He gulps, hand tightening around the glass, “I don’t just want to be a hookup. I want more than that, but it’s obvious you don’t. I’m tired of waiting around for something that isn’t gonna happen.”

Your face contorts into something he can’t read. Mild disappointment maybe? Who can say? He sure as hell can’t. You move away from him and stare at your drink.

“Gonna say anything?”

“I’m scared,” you sigh, “You’re gonna realize it’s just an infatuation and not good enough for you. You want something you can’t have and when you get it, you’ll get bored of me quick. So no, I don’t think it’d be a good idea to be an…” you gesture your hand as if trying to grab the word from the air, “item.”

“It feels real to me.” Dick knows what’s in his head, in his heart for you. It’s real and not something he conjured out of thin air. The seed had been planted long before the first drunken night of making out and heavy petting, and it has been blooming long before the first time you’d fucked him.

“I’ve been down this road before, Dick, and it doesn’t end pretty. It didn’t for me,” you dig through your purse and pull out a twenty, “I’ll see you around, Dick.”

He’s sure he heard your voice break and the slight sheen of tears begin to form in your eyes.


End file.
